


Can’t Help It

by phlight



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mixed Martial Arts, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, butt massage, it's mixed all right, topri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-19 00:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlight/pseuds/phlight
Summary: Seunghyun drops by for a private lesson with Seungri.





	Can’t Help It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kimya-Kay (Kimya)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimya/gifts).



> So, I didn't anticipate writing topri again so soon, but I signed up for a random Valentine's Day writing prompt and...I got this:  
> non-AU, comedy, no angst  
> Bias: Seungri (SAME THO!!!11)  
> OTP: topri (O SHIT!!!!!!11)  
> Kinks: choking/public sex/barebacking
> 
> I decided to try & touch on all of the kinks, and to write from Seungri's perspective since that almost never happens. (I imagine his brain is just constantly pulsating and who am I to try to step into that...) “No angst” was hard; I don't think there's angst here, but there are a few moments that I imagine to be more “aw” than “awww man D:” so...& I have a feeling the prompter wanted these two fighting a bit more but eh, um, this is what came out of my brain, so I hope you like it. Why is it so long, alksjflaksjf.

Seungri's on the bottom, which is fine. He likes it down here; there are so many possibilities, so many ways to come out on top from underneath. His partner looks just about done, with a rigid grimace locked on his brick red face.

Seungri hooks his ankles together and flexes his thighs around the strong waist. He grins, even lets himself laugh out loud. Sometimes he just can't help it, especially when the other guy is bigger than him and it doesn't matter one fucking bit. And hell, they're supposed to be having fun, aren't they?

He's really going for it up there, heaving back and forth with what Seungri knows is the last of his strength. Seungri shrimps his hip out just a little farther, leans back for just a little more leverage... _easy, easy_... He actually really loves this guy, knows it's been awhile for him, and he doesn't want to hurt him–

A movement in the corner of Seungri's vision redirects his attention to the mirrored wall behind them. He freezes when he sees the face.

The next thing he's aware of is a thick, strangling muscle surrounding his neck, and he doesn't even know how the fuck it got there.

_Okay, okay, I'm out!_

Seungri taps.

“Yaaa! I thought I was never gonna get one over on you!” his opponent crows. He leaps to his feet and hops around in a tight victory circle, pumping his fists. “I thought I was dead man, you kept trying for that killer kimura!”

Seungri is still on the floor, looking upside down into the mirror, limbs all sprawled out and senseless.

Seunghyun gives him two thumbs up.

 _Beautiful,_ Seungri thinks. _Perfect._

It _should_ have been – his technique was! Seungri had taken some time off for himself, but after a single restless morning at home he'd spent most of his week right here on the mats. It was amazing how it all came back to him, muscle memory firing up to melt away his stress.

Seunghyun beckons to him with his other four fingers now. Seungri's pulse pounds across his temple.

“Seungri-ya, you okay?” his sparring partner asks. He holds out his hand. Seungri accepts the lift.

“Thank you, hyung,” he murmurs, though he only has eyes for the one across the room. “Good session.”

“Yeah! But I'm not sure if I can make it tomorrow, my wife made reservations at the new–” His voice trails off when he realises Seungri isn't listening. “Uh. Oh! See, told you this place has great curb appeal.”

“I'll go see what he wants.” Seungri claps the man on the back, gives himself a mental shake and puffs himself up with a careless confidence he doesn't feel. “Hey, go use the showers upstairs and tell me what you think, okay? There's no fee if you're a member.”

“You don't have to twist my arm.”

After a slight bow exchange the other man heads to elevators, but like most mere humans, he's unable to resist one last glance over his shoulder at tall, dark, and Doom Dada.

Seungri heads toward the front desk, where Seunghyun leans casually on one elbow. He's wearing a mask, but Seungri can see the smile gleaming in his eyes.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” Seunghyun says.

Seungri almost plays along, mewls some complaint about how Seunghyun really did scare him, but he realises there's no need for the maknae act. They're alone down here. And the truth is, he'd felt nothing of the sort. No, the way Seungri felt around Seunghyun was the same as always, the same kinetic attraction he sees reflected in Seunghyun's eyes as they bore straight inside of him, making him want to burst out of his skin or jump across the counter and–

“What are you doing here?” Seungri demands. With Seunghyun, it's important to establish one's position early on.

Seunghyun's eyebrows twitch up as he pulls down his mask. Seungri looks him over, only looks, he doesn't _stare_ like Seunghyun always does. Seunghyun's mouth joins his eyes anyway. His grin is rakish, shameless, stupid.

“Just checking out the art.”

Seungri isn't slow, but he doesn't want to give Seunghyun the satisfaction of acknowledging the gag. Art. That's the dumbest fucking joke he's heard since...the last time he saw Seunghyun, probably. He's still a little embarrassed when Seunghyun's eyes begin to travel, from the sweaty shock of black spikes on his head, to his red face, to his rumpled white gi, to his ankles and bare feet poking out of his loose pant legs.

Seungri's toes curl against the textured rubber under his feet. Seunghyun, of course, looks – and smells – impeccable. His hair is coiffed into glossy midnight perfection, seems soft somehow even as it holds the style, and Seungri's learned eye detects foundation, concealer, maybe even some eye shadow? Seunghyun has always been vain, even if he claims not to rate himself. He knows when he looks good, but this isn't just good. This is Seunghyun with lasers set to stun.

Maybe he even thinks he's going in for the kill.

“Is that the new Tom Ford?” Seungri says, making a show of sniffing the air. Seunghyun plucks at his lapels.

“They hooked me up with this, too. Good time of year to be seen. But what the fuck is this?”

Long fingers dart and snag at the blue nylon of Seungri's rash guard under his gi. Seungri leaps backward, but not before one nipple sustains brief abuse. He slaps a palm over it as he delivers Seunghyun his first glare of the evening.

“Under Armour. I bought it myself,” Seungri deadpans.

“You never used to wear those underneath,” Seunghyun complains. Seungri rolls his eyes.

“I _always_ wear one.”

“Why?”

Seungri keeps his next glare level and steady. Does he actually want to spend time explaining mat burn to Seunghyun? Does he really want to go there? He can hear Seunghyun's goofy ass voice in his head already, _blah blah I'd like to give you mat burn blah blah._

It's just too much preamble for Seungri tonight. His blood is already up, and Seunghyun took his primary outlet away from him. But Seunghyun can be as giving as he is greedy. Seungri wonders if he can still win the submission he was after, one way or another.

Sure enough, Seunghyun's fingertips start to drum at the counter top. He's got the patience of a typical six-year-old, and it makes him easy.

“This place is legit,” Seunghyun says, glancing around the room. “Much nicer than the other gym you used to go to.”

“Yeah?” Seungri can't help himself on this point either, and his lips purse with pleasure. He really does take pride in all of his businesses.

“Why didn't you tell me about it? You always blab about everything else.”

Seungri's expression hardens back up. The blabbing thing is not even remotely true, not these days. Just like all of them, Seungri's a master of hiding in plain sight. And when was the last time he saw Seunghyun in a gym outside of a work context, anyway?

“I've been busy. And I didn't think you would be interested.”

“Oh, I'm interested,” Seunghyun says, straightening his posture as he steps around the counter. All the better to look Seungri up and down again. Seungri is about to scoff at him out loud, because _god_ , he's seen Seunghyun move on other people, he knows he's got better lines in him. And then he comes out with one Seungri hasn't heard before. “You gave me a kink for this shit.”

The burst of laughter escapes before Seungri can rein it in, and Seunghyun is instant dimples and teeth, the idiomatic cat with his cream. _Fuck, now he'll never let it go._

“I'm not kidding,” Seunghyun says, voice breezy like he's being carried away by what he says next. “Once I wanted to get off and I couldn't find anything good until I saw this UFC program–”

“For fuck's sake, hyung–”

“It was so hot. You should show me some of your moves.” Seunghyun steps closer.

“I've told you a million times, BJJ's not like that, okay?” Seungri holds his ground and crosses his arms. Seunghyun blatantly checks out his chest before he looks back up at his face.

“Not like what? Two dudes, rolling around on the floor, getting all sticky?”

Seunghyun reaches out, dabs at a bead of sweat just under one of Seungri's sideburns. That he is still actively perspiring is a fact that hasn't escaped Seungri, and clearly Seunghyun appreciates it. His other hand starts to rise and Seungri can easily imagine the next scene – his cheeks cupped sweetly in Seunghyun's big palms, Seunghyun leaning in for a kiss...or in a manic attempt to lick his entire face. He's done it before, and from the mischief in his eyes he'll definitely try again.

Seungri sighs as he takes Seunghyun's hand away and catches the other one before it reaches him. He holds them both gently as he begins to speak, words careful and cadence measured.

“Hyung. Just so you know, there's a yoga class with twenty pupils upstairs, plus ten or so VIP members receiving spa treatments. And that's not to mention,” he uses one of Seunghyun's hands to gesture at the large glass panes along one wall, “ _the entire fucking city_ out there.”

Seunghyun blinks, like he doesn't get it.

“Why do you always exaggerate? It's a good view, but it's just one neighbourhood.” He squeezes Seungri's hands as he looks around the room again. “You should be proud, though. I'm not even surprised. You always manage to monetise everything you love. DJs, waffles, ramen, Jiyong–”

Seungri wrenches his hands out of Seunghyun's. Seunghyun's cute little simper says it all; he's getting exactly what he wants.

“Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here, looking like that?” Now Seungri looks _him_ over head to toe.

“You like it?”

Seungri clenches his jaw. Seunghyun doesn't exactly preen, but there's an energy shift in the air. Seungri lets him keep talking, waits for the moment when Seunghyun will really get the picture.

“What better Valentine's Day gift could I give to my girl than to take her to the trendiest new show in town?”

Ha. Take her? He meant _be seen with her_. And Seunghyun's “girl” didn't need him to take her anywhere. More likely it was the other way around.

Seungri's brain connects the dots for him. Walk a few blocks south and the neighbourhood became less a gentrified display of suburban wealth and more an artist's haven, with galleries patronised by the yummy yoga pants wives upstairs, of course.

“Oh yeah? What about _her_ girl?”

“Ugh, what about her.” Seunghyun rolls his eyes and lets his jaw hang ajar like he's actively losing braincells.

“You sound jealous,” Seungri says, managing not to laugh this time.

“No, I sound annoyed.” Ugh, that pouty lower lip of his. It could totally be a put on, but it's one of his cutest habits, something he often does without realising. It's also sexy. Seungri can imagine the give of the soft flesh between his teeth, can hear Seunghyun's whine when he bites down.

“This is what _she_ sounds like,” Seunghyun continues, taking a deep breath before breaking into an awful cackle, equal parts witch and dolphin. Then he lifts his voice high as he slaps at Seungri's upper arm. “Seunghyun-ah, stop it! You're _too_ funny!”

Seungri giggles and Seunghyun's eyebrows flicker up with pleasure.

“God, _you_ sound so good. You have no idea.” For the first time this evening, he seems less calculated and more genuinely appreciative.

Seungri has quite a few ideas, actually. And Seunghyun's suit pants don't hide anything. He lets his eyes travel back up, ends up musing again over all that thick, black hair. If nothing else, he's going to make sure Seunghyun has to spend a few minutes in front of a mirror before he leaves.

There's a slight crackling noise. Seunghyun pulls his hand out of his pocket when he realises Seungri noticed. He even looks a little flustered. Seungri doesn't bother to question him. It's time to move.

Seungri turns and walks away, toward an outer hallway. He makes it all the way through the first set of glass doors before he hears Seunghyun start to follow. _Pabo_. Or he was just watching him walk. _Pervert._

He shrugs out of his gi top as he passes the elevator bank, knowing the tight shirt underneath makes him look all back and shoulders and pecs – he's proud of those especially. His thighs get with the program right away, even get too big, but his upper body is always a concerted labour of self-love.

“Did you walk on the mats in your shoes?” Seungri asks, punching in a security code on a nondescript door. He tosses the gi at Seunghyun.

“No,” he says, failing to catch. He has the good sense to look guilty.

“Pabo,” Seungri replies. He's not even mad. But it's still so good, so fucking good to put Seunghyun in his place. Especially when they're together like this.

“What–” Seunghyun begins, hanging back. He picks the gi up off the floor.

“You liked the main room so much. Thought you should have a tour of the whole place. Welcome to Authorised Personnel Only.”

This space is really just a glorified storage closet – there are shelves with extra supplies, first aid kits and the like, but there's also some basic office equipment that wouldn't fit at the front desk. Seunghyun steps inside while Seungri reaches inside a filing cabinet.

“Shut the door, hyung.” In their younger, dumber days, that wasn't always a requirement or even a concern. Shit, if Seungri could really have Seunghyun the way he wanted him they'd be out there on the mats right now, on full display for the security camera and the mirrors and innocent passersby on the street below.

_Being seen._

But now more than ever, if Seungri is going to entertain Seunghyun's unique sense of spontaneity, he has to insist on a modicum of privacy.

 _Aha. Here it is._ It's not exactly Seungri's preference to use this stuff, but he's good at working with what he's got. He knows Seunghyun will consider the lack of preparedness more of a bonus than a drawback. It will play right into one of his original kinks, one he loves so well he'd do anything to ensure Seungri can keep satisfying it. They stay safe, not just for themselves, but for each other. Seungri thinks it's a great way to say it all without saying anything. He's always been more keen on action, anyway. Save the pretty words for a song.

He closes the drawer and tosses the bottle from one hand to the other, keeping his expression neutral as he turns back to Seunghyun.

“What kind of gym has massage oil?” Seunghyun chucks the gi aside at an empty shelf. His own suit jacket joins it seconds later.

“It's from the spa,” Seungri shrugs.

“Then why is it down here?”

“Sometimes we give each other massages,” Seungri answers, truthfully. “After we roll.”

“Explain to me again how that isn't gay.”

It isn't. But Seungri loves to bring joy to others, to create a fantasy, and he considers wish fulfilment one of his many strengths. If Seunghyun wants gay BJJ, he'll get it with a bow on top.

“See those?” Seungri points to a small stack of extra foam floor mats. “Lay them out flat.”

Seungri watches him connect four of the interlocking squares, starting at the door and stopping at Seungri's feet. It'll be just long enough for their needs.

Seunghyun toes at the edge of one of the mats with a polished shoe. He's gone quiet, like he's gathering his thoughts. Seungri loves the contrast of Seunghyun before and after – well, _during_ , really. He always tries to hold it in, but he can't help himself.

“Let's start with a position you're already familiar with,” Seungri suggests, spry, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He fights to keep a straight face when Seunghyun looks mildly embarrassed by his next direction. “Hands and knees, hyung.”

“What's your rate for a private lesson?” Seunghyun asks, looking back at Seungri kneeling behind him. He went down without a fight, so Seungri will play along with the stupid joke. For the moment.

“I'll send you an invoice later.” Sometimes Seungri really does offer his friends one on one lessons, but he never charges because he's not a formal instructor. He is a kind, generous person. He lays a benevolent hand between Seunghyun's shoulder blades. “Okay, so, in BJJ there are a handful of basic positions. Guard, side, mount, and so on. Follow so far?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Then there are variations on those depending on your position in relation to your opponent. So...if you're there...and I'm here...” Seungri approximates the stance, placing his hands next to Seunghyun's on the mats and gripping Seunghyun's thighs between his own. Though of course in an actual grappling situation, the person underneath wouldn't be obediently supporting their weight off the ground, and Seungri wouldn't be pressing his hard dick against their tight ass. “This is called a rear mount."

Seunghyun immediately snickers.

“This is the best possible position for me,” Seungri continues, clearing his throat when Seunghyun presses back into him, “and the worst for you.”

“Oh yeah, this is pretty terrible,” Seunghyun says. He wiggles. Seungri lifts one hand off the mats to grab his hip. Seunghyun stills, but he keeps looking back at Seungri with that big dumb grin on his face.

“Do you understand why?” Seungri scowls.

“Uhhh...because you're on top of me?”

“Right, but why is me being on top a disadvantage for you?”

Seunghyun laughs again.

“It's not.”

“It is if you're actually trying to win, hyung.” Seungri digs his fingers into Seunghyun's slim waist.

“You're obsessed with winning,” Seunghyun sighs, shaking his head.

Seungri ignores this gross oversimplification of his character and settles in heavier on Seunghyun's back. Seunghyun wheezes out a short breath, his arms bowing before he straightens them back up.

“It's a disadvantage because all of my weight is on you,” which Seunghyun probably enjoys too much, of course, “and all of your weapons are pointed away from my body.”

“My weapons, huh.”

“Your arms, hyung. Hands. Feet. Legs.” Seungri lets go of Seunghyun's hip to pat one of his biceps, then takes his hand away. He lowers his voice. “And it's also a weak position for you because you can't see what I'm doing.”  
  
When he touches Seunghyun this time it's from an entirely different angle, sliding in between their thighs. He strokes Seunghyun with a few fingers, fighting off the urge to flip him over and rip his fly open. Seunghyun's cock is as gorgeous as the rest of him, long and elegant, and as eager.

“Is this an official technique?” Seunghyun asks.

“I find it's an effective hold, yes,” Seungri says, and squeezes. Seunghyun's head drops as he laughs again.

Seungri lets his hand wander a few moments more, from Seunghyun's waistband, to thighs, to ass and back again. He gives Seunghyun what he wants just often enough to keep him keen, on the edge of anticipation for even the barest touch between his legs. Seungri finally unhooks the closure on Seunghyun's waistband, fiddles with the small hidden button underneath before he pops it through its hole. Seunghyun is remarkably patient until his arms start to shake.

“Fuck, you're heavy,” he pants.

“Stay up, hyung,” Seungri says, tugging sharply to outline Seunghyun's jumpy cock through the fine wool.

“I am,” Seunghyun whines, but he's probably only talking about his dick. His body is sinking down. Seungri lets him go, because he needs his other arm soon. Seunghyun starts to turn his head but Seungri is quick, gripping Seunghyun's jaw to move him back where he wants him.

“You have to keep your neck straight to learn the next move.”

“Teach me, senpai,” Seunghyun says, sweet and aegyo like the aptest pupil, and when he wiggles his ass again Seungri loses it a little. He grabs Seunghyun by the hips, pulls him in for a brief, firm grind as he hisses against his ear.

“Good thing you already know how to take my dick up your ass, since that's what you came for?”

Seunghyun hums deep in his throat and pushes back into him again, like he just happened to be in the neighbourhood. Just checking out the art.

“But first,” Seungri says, letting his voice rise back to an expository tone. He reaches under Seunghyun again to pull his zipper down. “I'll show you the rear naked choke.”

Neither of them have to actually be naked for this submission, but Seunghyun doesn't have to know that. Seungri yanks down on wool and cotton until he's kneading skin and muscle under his hands, his handling rough enough that Seunghyun's questions come out in pained bursts.

“That's—an actual—it's really called that? You're for real?”

“It's real. Hold still and pay attention.”

Seungri pushes himself upright, pulling his gi bottoms down to mid-thigh while he checks out his actual favourite partner. Seunghyun is fucking _pristine_ tonight, so clean and tight and so ready to become the exact opposite. The thought makes Seungri remember the oil. He twists the top off the bottle and swizzles ropes and drops and spatters over Seunghyun like...like Pollock, and fuck Seunghyun if he'd make fun of the obvious reference because it's not Seungri's field of expertise. Seungri _does_ know exactly what he's doing as he slips and slides his half hard cock over Seunghyun's winter pale skin, appreciating the contrast of colours, textures, whatever– fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ He wants to be inside him two minutes ago.

He slaps a palm down flat on Seunghyun's right cheek; the noise cracks loud in the small room, and Seunghyun's cry is just as sharp. They both freeze, listening, until Seunghyun snickers again.

“Man, you better shut the fuck up,” Seungri murmurs, smearing the oil around as he watches the colour rise up under his hand. Seunghyun always looks great in pink.

“Make me,” Seunghyun says, fake testy, and Seungri bites his lip to stave off more giggling. He scrapes his nails over the slapped cheek, making Seunghyun gasp, then taps two slick fingers on his hole. Seunghyun backs right up, trying to angle himself for entry. Seungri takes his hand away. He moves his body up, to the lovely sound of Seunghyun's frustrated sigh. Their height difference turns him on in certain situations, but at the moment it's inconvenient. Ah well, this will be worth letting go of his ass for a minute or two.

“I think you must have been whacking off to MMA more often than you're willing to admit.”

“How's that?”

“The rear naked choke,” Seungri says, “is also called the _mata leão_. That's Portuguese for 'lion killer.'”

“Uhh–”

“Look it up later, hyung, I don't have time for a fucking history lesson right now.”

“Okay, jesus.”

“What you need to know is that it's one of the most important submissions in BJJ. And it's an excellent way to _make you_ quiet.” Seungri strokes the back of Seunghyun's neck, slowly working his fingers up.

“Creepy.”

“No it's not. It's awesome. And effective.” Seungri slides his right arm across Seunghyun's throat and crooks his elbow.“There are a lot of ways to do it, but the basic idea with any choke is to create a triangle around your opponent's neck. Okay?”

“Effective triangles,” Seunghyun nods.

“So, arm around the front, not across the trachea, below it – yeah, right here – and then you use the hand of that same arm to grab the bicep of your opposite arm –- and most people have put up some resistance at this point,” Seungri can't help himself, “but anyway, then you just–”

He squeezes in, tilting his own head down as he brings his elbows closer together to tighten the choke. He counts out in his head – _one, two, three_ – and releases.

“Holy _shit!_ ” Seunghyun whispers before sucking in a deep breath. Seungri knows what he's going through right now. It's not so much that he couldn't breathe; it's the whole lack-of-blood-to-the-brain issue. Can be a little intense.

“Feeling all right, hyung?”

“Do it again!”

Seungri laughs, but he can't even make fun of him. Seunghyun has to be able to tell how much Seungri is getting off on this too, considering he's the one with an extra bone in his back right now.

“One more time,” Seungri agrees, like he's indulging a small child. “But then we're moving on.” He doesn't trust Seunghyun to know when to tap yet – w _ould he ever tap?_ – and he needs him conscious.

This time when Seungri starts to move his right arm into position, Seunghyun surprises him by tucking his chin in and moving his forehead down to the mat. Might just be instinct, but the fact that he tried to defend at all is impressive. Seungri grabs Seunghyun's hair; he doesn't jerk back, because he's not an asshole and he knows Seunghyun can be stiff. He does pull with steady force, bringing Seunghyun's chin up. This is definitely not an official technique, but again, no need for Seunghyun to know. Covering Seunghyun's exposed throat doesn't take much effort, but Seungri has to let go of his hair to apply the choke again.

When Seungri releases him this time, Seunghyun lets out a low moan.

“Told you you'd like it.” Seungri also can't help the smug tone of voice. Seunghyun likes that, too.

“Ugh, fuck,” Seunghyun grumbles, trembling more than before even though his arms are bent and his chest is touching the floor.

Seungri moves back down Seunghyun's trim body, smirking at the oily spots and daubs of precum he's left behind on the white dress shirt. He gets more oil, pats it on himself and snugs his cock in between Seunghyun's cheeks, using them to give himself a massage.

“Come on, hyung. Don't be lazy,” he chides. Seunghyun sighs out a complaint, because he actually is pretty lazy, but he attempts to match his hips to Seungri's movements. “Yeah, that's it. Get me hard.”

Seungri is proud, loves to see and hear the first reaction when his partner realises what he's got for them. Seunghyun is pretty familiar with what's on offer, and the fact that he wants it bad enough to show up unannounced makes Seungri feel even cockier. He lets go of Seunghyun's ass to reach under and grip Seunghyun's cock at the base, until he's swollen and pulsing in Seungri's hand. It's a kind of choke, Seungri muses.

“Shh,” he says, stroking up on Seunghyun as he presses down on the head of his own cock, creating enough pressure for him to pop past Seunghyun's tight ring of muscle. Seunghyun doesn't listen, of course; it's like his ass takes over his entire brain. Seungri wouldn't put up with it if he wasn't so fucking hot. “Hyung! The yoga pants moms!”

“– _what?_ ”

“Nevermind, fuck,” Seungri mutters. He's losing the thought already while he watches himself slide into Seunghyun. The oil is just slick enough, the drag slow and delicious. Seungri feels every single inch as he pushes inside.

Seunghyun isn't much of a talker, but he never shuts up. Seungri keeps stroking his cock, making his first few thrusts deep and deliberate. Seunghyun responds to each with exactly the right roll of his hips, the one that begs Seungri to fuck him harder.

Seungri loves nothing more than to oblige, to give it to him until Seunghyun can't do anything but take it, too far gone to do anything but come with a (nearly) soundless scream – _fuck_ , that's still hands-down the hottest fucking thing – but he shouldn't imagine the end so soon, unless he wants it to become the beginning too.

He lowers himself back over Seunghyun, gets a good grip of his hair again as he takes a few more seconds to indulge in that tight, perfect heat. He circles his hips against him, whispering directly in his ear to be heard over Seunghyun's own moans and breathy gasps.

“You look amazing tonight, hyung. Everyone must have been staring. Jealous of her.” Seungri backs out and Seunghyun moans at the pull, on his hair, in his ass. Seungri shifts his legs to make Seunghyun open his wider, which makes his back arch and lifts his ass up into an ideal position. Seungri takes advantage, snapping his hips hard enough to move them both an inch or two up the mats, once, twice. “But you look even better on my dick.”

Seunghyun pants with effort as he tries to get a better grip on the surface under them, while Seungri builds up his pace. He pulls Seunghyun's hair harder, tightening his other arm across his chest to keep him where he likes him. It's something like a hug, and more like _a hold_ , not that Seunghyun would be trying to get out of it even if he knew. Nah, he's just–

“So fucking easy,” Seungri breathes. “You probably ran your ass over as soon as you found out I was here, didn't you? Who told you?”

Seunghyun's glassy eyes slide toward Seungri's as he tries to process the questions.

“I asked—” Seunghyun grunts when Seungri bottoms out and keeps thrusting, like there's anywhere farther for him to go. Seunghyun squeezes his eyes shut and cries out before he loses his power of speech. “Aish! I took a cab!”

Seungri laughs before he shushes him again. Probably Seunghyun texted his manager or something. Whatever, the point still stands. “Couldn't wait to get all filled up and stretched out, right? And now you'll probably be begging me to choke you out every other time I fuck you–”

Seunghyun just moans continuously, noise broken only by Seungri's rhythm – and shit, he's getting kinda tired in spite of himself. He pauses, lets go of Seunghyun's hair to swipe an arm across his wet forehead. Should've taken off the stupid rash guard. But he knows he looks so good in it. _Worth it._

Seunghyun lets his head drop and Seungri sees he's sweating just as much, big drops rolling from his hairline down to his jaw and under the loosened neck of his shirt.

“–come.”

“Wha? Say something?” Seungri pants.

“Come in me, please come,” Seunghyun says, mumbling out his hoarse plea against the mat.

“You sore, you big fucking baby?” Ahhh, Seungri knows it's mean but it's just too good—he grabs the oil anyway, pulls his cock out of Seunghyun nice and slow until the ridge of his head catches just inside him. He greases up the rest, voice shaking a bit. “Do it then, make me come. I'm not gonna do all the fucking work around here.”

Seunghyun inhales through his nose before he lifts himself, groaning as he slides back on Seungri. Seungri's surprised for the nth time that night when Seunghyun keeps going, rising up even though he's shaking more than ever, almost flailing in his urgency to get into position. Luckily Seungri's used to controlling a lot of weight fast; he steadies Seunghyun with the arm around his chest and a hand at his hip, helping him settle back against his chest until they're close to a seated position. Seunghyun gropes for the shelf with one hand and threads his fingers through Seungri's on his hip and it's sort of – it makes Seungri feel kind of –

_Nice?_

He's also a total sucker for being ridden, because maybe he's secretly a little lazy himself, maybe he sort of loves to be taken care of, too. He moans, muffling the noise against one of Seunghyun's shoulders, his brain blanking out as his body endures Seunghyun's final burst of energy. When he tunes back in, he's almost there.

“Don't stop,” he whimpers, sounding just as a pathetic and needy as Seunghyun ever has. He catches himself, lowers his voice into a growl as he thrusts up to meet Seunghyun slamming down. “Don't you dare fucking stop.”

Seunghyun doesn't, works just as hard as Seungri for the finish, but he's much quieter than expected. Seungri realises at the last second that his arm around Seunghyun's chest might be squeezing the breath out of him, unintentionally this time.

The _ding_ of an elevator initiates a bizarre chain reaction. Seunghyun freezes, except for one last impossibly tight squeeze right where it counts, and Seungri is gone at the exact moment voices ring out the hallway. There's no stopping him once he starts; he grits his teeth against the exquisite pleasure and buries his face deeper in Seunghyun's neck, holding on to him for dear life.

“Ahh, he must have left already!”

“What a pity. I wanted to watch him with that big guy–”

“Hee-ya! You already watched them for so long, I saw you!”

“She was even late to class!”

“Have you seen that ass? Can you blame me?!”

Their banter fades as they move down the hallway, and for a few moments it's just two thirtysomethings wheezing in a closet.

“I was gonna say dinner's ready, but I can't top that,” Seunghyun says, sounding truly impressed. “And I definitely don't blame her.”

Seungri's laughter is weak. He releases his grip on Seunghyun, starts to slip out of him...until there's an immediate gush of cum and oil running down his cock, so much that Seungri panics and shoves it back in. Seunghyun groans, loud as ever.

“Fuck, can you shut the fuck up,” Seungri says, annoyed at how his cock makes a halfhearted attempt to get itself up. He would come again if he could, but those halcyon days are over. “There might still be people up there.” Then he happens to glance over Seunghyun's shoulder, catches sight of him in all his blissfully erect, leaking glory. He feels a hot rush through his stomach as his dick tries _again_ , followed by pure dismay. “You didn't come yet?! Why not?”

“Because you're fucking rude? I don't know!” Seunghyun gripes, bouncing himself on Seungri like he's a damned suction cup dildo stuck to a shower wall.

 _Fuck it_ , the mat is ruined now anyway. Seungri pulls out and pushes Seunghyun off him, hooking an arm around his neck and cupping his ass at the same time. He brings some of the slick mess around to Seunghyun's front and tightens both holds. It's not a proper choke. Not proper at all.

“I'm rude, hyung?” Seungri asks, jerking Seunghyun fast and hard, like they're in the back of the tour van or ten minutes from going live or just overeager for each other like they've always been. “ _I'm_ the rude one? That's your angle?”

Seunghyun's cum hits the wall seconds later, which is maybe worse than the mats, Seungri can't decide, but the second and third spurts go all over his own thighs. Seungri finds the aesthetics just as satisfying as Seunghyun's shuddering, strangled moans.

He waits a few more seconds, lets Seunghyun go boneless in his arms and slump down to the mats as he stares at the jizz on the wall. Jesus. Seungri's heard of blessing rooms in a new house, but this is a bit much. He gropes around, snags the end of his gi sleeve on the shelf. First the mats, then the paint, and now his gi? _Dammit_.

He looks away from trying to mop up when Seunghyun makes a short noise of complaint. He's wincing, grabbing at his shoulder and neck. Seungri feels kind of bad. Maybe. Seunghyun catches him looking and makes a hopeful face. Seungri sighs, starts in on Seunghyun’s legs with the gi, too. He doesn't know why Seunghyun's complaining about his neck when he's always the one dealing out the most whiplash.

“Isn't this when you're supposed to give me a massage?” Seunghyun asks, blinking.

“Would you actually like one?” Seungri pauses, sets the soiled gi aside when Seunghyun nods. He knows he's putting on his smug voice again, but he can't help it. “Hmm. I'm pretty good at it.”

“Of course you are,” Seunghyun says, soft and sincere, watching Seungri's face for a few seconds before he attends to his pants. Seungri is taken aback, doesn't even come close to thinking up a coherent reply. Seunghyun's tone is more casual once he's dressed. “Did you have plans for the rest of your evening?”

“Uh, no,” Seungri says. Well, nothing like a formal date, no candlelit black card workout. Maybe he'd answer a few of the texts begging him to make an appearance at this club or that one, but– “What about you, do you have to get back to the exhibition or whatever it it was?”

It would've been just like Seunghyun to slink out of a side door without saying anything, but Seungri doesn't press him for details.

“Nah. I put in my time.” Seunghyun shrugs, and they're full-on staring at each other now, and Seungri feels prickles of anxiety starting to zing up from the center of his chest. Until Seunghyun's eyes animate again and he gets to his knees, rummaging in one of his pockets. Seungri hears the crinkle again.

In Seunghyun's palm sit two meticulously molded chocolate roses. Wrapped in heart-printed pink cellophane.

“Are you kidding me?” Seungri knows his laugh sounds slightly crazed, but Seunghyun's still giving him an eye smile.

“You know you want one.”

“I'm on a diet,” Seungri says, steeling himself against the temptation.

“Come on,” Seunghyun scoffs. “Did you get any from anyone else today?” He hurries to interrupt when Seungri opens his mouth. “Anyone who isn't _your mom?_ Or who works for you?”

“You're so fucking romantic.” Seungri grabs one of the chocolates. It looks a little smeary on closer inspection, but considering what it just went through, it's not that bad off. “You didn't make these.”

“Nah. She did.”

Seungri doesn't care to ask who he means. He rips into the cellophane and bites down, and it's good, he thinks, comforting, _nice_ , like– Seungri's eyes go wide when Seunghyun sits up and presses his lips to his. The kiss is short, but.

“It's really good,” Seungri says. “The chocolate. Wow.” Seunghyun smirks. Seungri licks his lips, feels kind of nervous and kind of excited when he remembers what Seunghyun said before. He did always want to try it out on him. Trying shit out with Seunghyun is fun. “Do you seriously want a massage? The spa closes soon...and I could give you the rest of the tour.”

“Hell yeah. But only if it's a private one. And only if you give me a discount, too."

“Wears Tom Ford, is super fucking cheap.”

“Only for you,” Seunghyun whispers, greasy and gross. Then he leans in close, gripping Seungri's shoulders and giving him a shake. “I should be an exclusive member! You said VIP!”

“Discounts are only for VVIPs.”

“I love all your songs, oppa,” Seunghyun whisper-screams instantly, doing an uncanny fan impression...or maybe it was supposed to be one of the yoga moms? Then Seunghyun squeals out loud. “Fuck me oppa!”

“Shh, the fuck is wrong with you!” Seungri hisses, covering his mouth.

“But I shared my chocolate,” Seunghyun blurts as soon as Seungri lifts his hand.

It's true. He did.

“Give me some more,” Seungri says.

Seunghyun unwraps the other chocolate, lays it on the flat of his tongue, pulls his tongue back inside his mouth, and leaves his lips just slightly parted.

 _Ahh, shit._ Seungri helps himself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> What kind of ending! Do they ever get out of the closet?! Did that one guy like the showers? Will Seungri get inconvenient boners the next few times he has to choke someone out? :O
> 
> A point that should be extremely obvious if you just read the story: BJJ really isn't “like that,” although it is [interesting to watch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-J_Ix_tJ2s) if you're a perv (like me & my best bud T.O.P). I described a few terms/techniques in this story, but I don't personally study martial arts of any kind, so I doubt I've gotten it “right” & didn't really intend to – Seungri is just humouring his perv hyung. Seunghyun will have to sign up for classes if he wants to actually learn anything.
> 
> P.S. I mean no disrespect to women who wear yoga pants, considering I am one of them. Daesung help meeee....


End file.
